Burn
by prouvaires
Summary: -touch my world with your fingertips and we can have forever.- UtherNimueh, sort of.


_Touch my tears with your lips, touch my world with your fingertips, and we can have forever._

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the BBC TV show Merlin, or any of the characters therein.

**Words:** 2,691

**Rating:** T

**A/N: **Written from a challenge by BloodredCrimsonhands: "Arthur and Merlin are like two sides of the same coin. But before Arthur and Merlin, there was Uther and Nimueh …"

**Song: **Who Wants To Live Forever - Queen

--

"Uther, look!" the little girl cries, her wet hair falling over her face as her fingers trace patterns on the surface of the lake. The young boy rushes over to her, the nurse watching carefully from a short distance away with two guards.

"What?" he asks, not understanding fully. She places a finger to her lips and holds her hand over the still water, which she's standing waist-deep in, her white under-dress clinging to her.

"Kuraith saluh heylass," she hisses, the s's dragging and her eyes flashing bronze as the magic flows from her. A bubble of water jumps from the surface of the lake, and with nimble fingers moulding the water as if it's clay she creates a little fish that wriggles where it is suspended in mid-air. With an extra couple of sibilant sentences, she draws some sunlight into it to give it colour, and as it writhes, suspended above the lake, she turns to Uther.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she asks, and he beams at her.

"It's amazing," he agrees, and reaches curious fingers out to caress it. "It's wet!" he exclaims, and she laughs.

"It's made of water," she points out, and as he laughs self-consciously she releases it with a splash, and watches the little glowing creature dart away into the depths of the lake. As she watches the place where it disappeared, a little dead frog rises to the surface of the water.

_A life for a life, _the familiar-unfamiliar voice whispers inside her mind. _The balance must be restored._

_Get out of my head, _she thinks back furiously. The voice is starting to irritate her – it's so patronising. She _knows _magic. She's already more powerful than most of the magicians at court, and she's only seven. _Be careful, little witch, _the voice warns her, and she shakes her head irritably.

"Are you alright?" Uther asks curiously, and she smiles at him.

"Yes, forgive me. I had water in my ear."

If she tells her friend she's hearing voices he'll think she's crazy – at least, crazier than she already is with her scary, powerful magic.

"Prince Uther! Lady Nimueh! It's time to return to the castle," the nurse calls, and the two children exit the lake. Nimueh shakes herself like a dog as Uther laughs, the eight-year-old boy picking up his cloak and wrapping it around her. He's been raised to be a gentleman at all times.

"Thank you," she says, shooting him her prettiest smile. He grins back, leading her towards the adults. Beauty is a weapon, and Nimueh has been taught how to use it for as long as she can remember. They reach the guards, and Nimueh is lifted to sit in front of one as Arthur mounts his sturdy little pony. This is an insult to Nimueh, who is easily as good a rider as Uther – if not better – but this is Camelot and she knows that women are supposed to be weaker than men, unable to protect themselves, so she merely rearranges Uther's cloak around herself a little stuffily, tangling her fingers in the horse's long mane.

They reach the castle, and the nurse catches hold of her hand as they re-enter the huge castle.

"Behave yourself, Lady Nimueh," the nurse orders as Nimueh fights her, and the child ceases struggling. She is commanded into the bath once she reaches her own chambers, and has to suffer the indignity of having the nurse scrub her all over until she is clean to the woman's standards, and then her dirty dress from the day is handed over to a maid as Nimueh climbs into bed.

As soon as the nurse is gone, she slips out of bed, pulls on a cloak, and pads down the stone corridors. She knows where she's going, and soon reaches the familiar wooden door. She knocks three times, and draws back a little to wait. Pattering feet can soon be heard on the other side of the door, and then Uther's face appears around it, floppy brown hair falling into his pale eyes.

"Who is it?" he whispers, and she throws the hood of her cloak back. He smiles. "Nimueh," he says, and invites her inside. She climbs straight up into the bed and they curl up together like puppies, falling asleep instantly.

Their childhood is blissful, innocent. They spend their afternoons playing together, their mornings devoted to their respective lessons. Uther must learn to be a soldier, a king; and she must learn to be a sorceress, to use the powerful magic she possesses in the correct way.

This is the way of things until her tenth birthday, mere weeks after he's turned eleven, and then she's taken away from court in the middle of the night by her people because Uther's father, the king, will not tolerate her power and the danger she poses in his home.

--

They don't see each other again until she's nineteen, and he's almost twenty-one and king now. She's run away from home, sick of being treated like she's nothing special, like her gifts are something to be careful and cautious with, not used and wondered at. She canters into the stone courtyard at Camelot, distastefully eyeing the muddy servants rushing to and fro, her green cloak settling across her horse's rump as she pulls it to a halt. She slides from its back as guards rush up to challenge her.

"Go and find King Uther," she commands, the power crackling in her voice. "Tell him an old friend is here to see him."

Her face is hidden in the shadow of her hood, so none of them recognise her. They rush off, something about her unsettling them. Uther himself appears soon afterwards, a golden circlet around his brow.

"Who are you?" he demands, halting in front of his guard, who are standing with their spears drawn.

"Do you really not recognise me?" she asks softly, and throws back the hood. His mouth gapes for a moment, before he remembers himself and shuts it.

"Nimueh?" he inquires, moving closer. "I can't believe it's you!" he shouts suddenly, and lifts her up and twirls her around and around in a hug.

"Foolish boy," she laughs, and twines her arm around his neck. He releases her eventually at a soft cough from behind him, and as he puts her down he turns to take the hand of a girl coming out of the crowd of guards and spears. She looks a little older than Nimueh herself, and is not as beautiful.

"I'd like you to meet my betrothed," Uther says to Nimueh, his eyes not leaving the blonde girl beside him. "Nimueh, this is Egrain. We are to be married in a month's time." The girl smiles prettily at Nimueh and extends a hand.

"It's an honour, Lady Nimueh," she says. Something inside Nimueh snaps, and overhead a flash of lightening crackles from the sky and strikes the ground only two metres to the right of Uther and Egrain. Everyone screams and dives to the ground. Nimueh's eyes stop flashing bronze as she remembers herself and with an effort draws the power back within herself.

"Forgive me," she says breathily, a hand pressed to her heart. "I was taken by surprise. Congratulations, sire."

He climbs to his feet nervously, eyeing her up and down. "There is nothing to apologise for," he forces out, bowing to her. "Would you care to join us for dinner?"

She smiles the smile that's turned from pretty to heart-breaking, and accepts his arm. "It would be an honour, sire," she says, and as she sweeps regally past Uther's wife-to-be she catches the girl's eye and pours all her resentment into that one gaze. Egrain gasps, feeling almost physical pain as Nimueh carries on, her head inclined gracefully to listen to Uther's chatter.

--

She remains at Camelot for a month, but cannot bear to see the wedding. It is a sign that Uther has grown up and away from her, and besides the love between him and his new wife sickens her. She takes her leave gladly, mounting the midnight black mare again and galloping away into the forest. She returns regularly, every eight months or so, and every visit leaves her gladder because Uther's pretty little wife has failed to give him a child.

After many years, as Uther and Egrain grow more distressed by the lack of a baby, Nimueh is watching, secretly delighted. One afternoon, maybe ten years after her first return to Camelot, she clatters into the familiar courtyard once again, and he rushes out to meet her. He is older, greyer, his face more lined. She has not changed since her twenty-first birthday, and is still breaking hearts wherever she goes. She's turned it almost into a skill. _One two three, how many hearts break today for me?_

"Nimueh, thank the heavens," he gasps, dropping to his knees before her and clutching her hand. She laughs slightly and puts her hands on his shoulders, raising him to his feet.

"Uther," she replies, embracing him. "It is not often I receive such a warm welcome."

This is true. People are beginning to be distrustful of her – they fear her and her power. She is a creature of the old religion, and everything about her, from her ethereal beauty to her blue eyes that flash bronze when she's angry, warn people away.

"I need your help," he confesses as he leads her towards his rooms. "I need a son," he says before she can interrupt. Nimueh's lips curve upwards into a smile as she turns to regard him.

"I will do as you wish, sire," she says. She knows full well the price that Egrain will pay for the son, but she is not about to mention this to Uther. The kingdom needs a son, any pleb from the street can tell him that, and she will not risk the future of the kingdom for the sake of his stupid little wife.

She performs the spell that night, taking them out to the ruins on the isle in the middle of the lake. Egrain drinks from the Cup of Life, and her fate is sealed. Nimueh laughs joyously as the woman drains the goblet dry, and when she leaves for the forest the next morning there is a lightness in her heart that has not been there since she was ten years old.

Nimueh is not an evil creature by nature – she has been pushed towards the edge for many years, although she has not yet been forced over it. She still works for the kingdom and the greater good, but only partly. Her main reason for staying loyal to the crown is the man she loves. Uther Pendragon, who married another woman and abandoned her as nothing. If only he'd married her, she would have given him hundreds of fine, strong sons, and she would never have needed to pay with her life for the child Egrain so desperately wants.

She waits an extra month in addition to her usual eight before returning, and with her magic times her entry into the castle just as Egrain goes into labour. Uther paces in the hall anxiously, his middle-aged physician, Gaius, near him. Nimueh creeps up and beckons the man to her side. He comes willingly.

"Gaius," she says quietly, keeping half her attention on the anxious king.

"Nimueh," he replies with a nod. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You know the price Egrain will pay," she tells him, as blunt as usual. He bows his head.

"I had guessed as much."

"You are still practising magic?" she inquires, and he nods. She beams. "I actually could use some advice. I'm looking for a spell that will – "

She's interrupted by the double doors smashing open and a distraught maid rushing in, collapsing at the feet of her monarch.

"My lord," she sobs, her apron being twisted and turned in both hands. "My lord, the queen …"

Uther doesn't hear her out. He's out of the door and along the corridor in seconds. Nimueh and Gaius follow closely behind him. There is no heaviness in Nimueh's heart as she enters the room and finds the king bowed over the still body of his wife.

Nimueh crosses the room to the cradle where the screaming baby lies. She smiles down at him, and his small body is so perfect and so beautiful that as she lifts him into her arms she feels the pull of maternal instinct in her body for the first time.

"_You_," a voice hisses behind her. Uther stands with his sword drawn, tears running down his anguished face. "You _knew _this would happen! You knew and you never told me!"

Nimueh turns and calmly hands the child to the nurse. "Get him out of here," she orders quietly, and kisses the baby softly on the forehead. _Be strong, little Arthur, _she commands him mentally, and as the maid retreats from the room Arthur begins to scream.

"Yes, I knew," Nimueh announces, moving away from the cradle and into the centre of the room, interrupting Uther before he can speak again. "I do not have the power to create life without giving something in return."

"But …" Uther is beyond reason. His hand trembles around the handle of his sword as he advances on her. "It should not have been Egrain!"

"Who else would you have it be, sire?" she shrieks at him, her voice ripping through the word 'sire' sarcastically. "The kingdom needs a prince, and the old religion cares not what life they take in return for the child's!"

"You will pay for this, witch," he forces out through clenched teeth, advancing on her.

"Oh no, Uther, 'twill not be me that pays for this."

"I will _destroy _you," he promises her fervently, his eyes feverish as he traps her in a castle. "You are the most selfish, cruel, murderous creature I have ever had the misfortune to know!"

It breaks her apart, hearing him say this. It makes her so angry she almost cannot think straight. She thrusts a hand out towards him, and the whole room crackles with her power.

"You will regret this day," she swears to him, and as she vanishes from sight, she hears him cry out.

"I already do!" he yells at her before she feels the darkness, and then steps back into the light in the courtyard. She runs straight for her mare, vaulting onto the horse bareback and galloping out of the castle. She blasts guards out of the way without even stopping to think, killing maybe fifty before she leaves the confines of the city. She shakes them off her tail easily, and pushes the mare up a nearby hillside to watch Camelot.

Fires are already roaring as she watches, and she reaches out with her magic to hear what is happening. Among the cries and shrieks of the people within the walls, she hears guards shouting commands at each other.

"Her, she's been seen to use magic. And him – the king wants them all. Yes, the child, take him too."

Nimueh cannot believe her ears. The mare rears up as it senses her anger, which snaps into all-out fury as she hears a little child crying out in pain as a soldier sticks a sword through his chest.

"You will all _burn_," she screams into the air, and her voice, amplified by magic, echoes around the corridors of the castle and streets of the city. All creatures of the darkness and of evil creep out of the forest, and slither their way into the city, striking down at any soldier they find. Nimueh's rage has summoned them, and last of all the Great Dragon barrels out of the sky to her. She leaps abroad his broad shoulders and he takes to the sky.

_Burn them all, _she whispers into his mind, and he screams as he dives for the city, his breath igniting the air in front of him.

She's found the edge into evil, and she's jumped.

--

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